The Outing
by Dubbers
Summary: John really wishes people wouldn't phone him at such awkward moments. Especially when Sherlock's around. Somehow they always get the wrong idea.


**Someone asked for something like this, and my brain went into overdrive. Done at midnight, so please ignore (or point out) any errors; it's a bit weird, but I thought I might as well publish it. Reviews and concrit would be very much appreciated.  
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**I own nothing. Enjoy.**

The Outing

Sherlock is fairly sure that John is not happy. He deduces this from how John clenches his fingers and tugs at his jumper. He deduces this from the way the side of John's mouth twitches unconsciously. He deduces this from the mud on John's shoes. (No really, he does!) Mostly however he deduces this fact from the not quite one sided conversation his flatmate is having with his phone. (Or the person on the other end of it, but it's all the same to him.)

"…you know, now's really not a good time…"

He ignores it at first – he can survive without his blogger for a few minutes after all – and instead he spends his time tracking his prey across the misty landscape.

"…yes I get that but…yes…no…"

He searches for a better vantage point after a few minutes, stealthily aiming for higher ground, which coincidentally happens to be closer to where John is.

"…I do _not_ spend too much time with him…_no_…"

Sherlock tries not to listen, but there's only so much he can achieve without his faithful assistant; this is a two man job after all.

"…Harry, would you please just-"

He can see John snap before he hears it. (Even if the events happened simultaneously this would still be the case what with light traveling at 299792458 m / s compared to sound's measly 340.29 m / s at sea level. Although at such a short distance apart the difference would be negligible at best. But they are quite close to the sea.)

"Why? _Why_? Because I'm in a muddy, soggy, thistle infested field in the arse end of nowhere _chasing bloody_ _sheep_!"

There is a lull in the conversation. Even from his position several metres away it feels somewhat ominous. Sherlock's brain struggles to come up with a reason why: John hasn't been caught out in a lie, hasn't said anything incriminating, hasn't mentioned the taboo subjects of booze or Clara…and yet John's face says: _Uh oh._

He has to be missing something.

The voice on the other end of the phone finally speaks again, and although he's still too far away to hear what's said he can see John wince, although the sigh the other man lets out is one part relief, most parts frustration.

"Yes, with Sherlock."

He can relate to the frustration part. Finally, _finally_ he'd managed to get John to drive him out to his subjects' natural habitat in order to properly observe them and ascertain whether or not they could be incited to murder-

_("Wait, let me get this straight." John had said whilst Sherlock tried very hard not to bounce up and down on the spot. "You want me…" Sherlock nodded impatiently in the pause, "to take you…" another nod, "to a field…" nodnodnod, "so you can find out if a sheep _killed_ a man?"_

"_Yes!" Relief shot through him like an arrow: he knew John wasn't really _that_ dumb, but it was nice to have clarification. "Can we go now?" And John had sighed his long-suffering-Sherlock sigh, gone to get his car keys and off they went.)_

-and after all that convincing and a very long, _very _boring car journey, his targets in sight, the man just _had_ to answer his _bloody phone_!

"I'm not gay! And before you start on the sheep it's for a case, not for anything-"

But Sherlock has had enough. He thinks that really he's been quite patient, but he didn't come all the way out here to listen to John rant at someone who wasn't listening anyway. (He could do that at home.) And so he grabs the phone out of his flatmate's tenuous grip – misjudging slightly; his elbow connects with John's stomach and John goes _oof!_ – and takes it to his own ear.

"Harry, hello, how are you?" he rambles off, not bothering to wait for an answer. "John's got a previous engagement so he can't talk right now and by the way the bottle in your hand isn't vodka it's cleaning fluid, have a nice day!" He spins around as he talks without pausing for breath, his finger not quite pushing the 'End Call' button as he continues to the next (and more important) train of thought. "Quick John! The sheep! They're getting away!"

John threads a hand through his hair and does not look pleased, but Sherlock is already running before he's processed this, because he's still got John's phone and there are potential suspects to catch.

"Great, now my sister thinks I'm shagging you _and_ the sheep!"

Predictably however there are footfalls echoing his own as his faithful companion hurries to catch up.

He never knew sheep could run so fast.

~**fin**

**Written for prompt at sherlockbbc_fic on lj: Sherlock and John having to chase or herd sheep (for a case, please, not for salacious purposes)**


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